


The First Date

by ElizaDarling



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Claire being way too stuck up for her own good, F/M, First Dates, Owen can't pronounce French to save his life, Pre-Movie(s), board shorts, cheesy gifts, off-itinerary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 18:29:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4359689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizaDarling/pseuds/ElizaDarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is hindsight really 20/20? Or is Claire just making her date with Owen seem worse than it actually was? Pre-Jurassic World.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Date

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be waaaay shorter and then I just kept going... Also it should have taken me much shorter to complete, but I've been writing and drawing so much that I got tendonitis in my dominant palm and arm. Which means if you do follow me, things are going to take a bit longer to complete. I apologize in advance!
> 
> Also I'm Clawen trash, so here's my take on that first date. All I could think of was... Was it really that bad? Or did Claire only make it seem like it was terrible?

**The First Date**

6:38 PM, and Claire was only wearing a watch.

At promptly seven, she was to meet her date before the tram leading toward the main hotel so they could have a nice, intimate dinner.

Perks of running Jurassic World, she supposed.

If only she could figure out what to wear.

What  _did_  one wear on a humid night off the coast of Costa Rica? First date, with an ex-Navy man who was training Velociraptors… How should she act around someone so… rugged? Claire blushed as she realized that the glistening muscles and unshaven face were, in fact, features she found  _attractive_ , but Claire was used to dating preppy men with Master's degrees and sharp suits. The change of pace felt like a  _risk_ , a  _challenge_.

Or maybe it might have been because that pretty, young, blonde intern was starting to take interest, and Claire asked him out as soon as she noticed this. The stunned look on his face showed that maybe she shouldn't have sprung it on him as quickly as the blink of an eye, but he agreed, amused that she'd asked.

Okay, definitely not black undergarments. Black suggested daring, promiscuity, almost.

White suggested purity.

Deep red didn't match her hair.

 _Beige_. But she plucked out the matching pair with cream lace adorning the bra and waistband of her underwear. Classy, but it hinted that she wasn't opposed to that sort of fun.

But  _no_  sex on the first date, of course.

After her undergarments were secured in place, Claire straightened her drying hair, hoping the humidity didn't make her bob frizz. It was bad enough that she had been born on the more orange side of the redhead spectrum.

Which made choosing an outfit that much more difficult.

Something immaculate, but edgy. Something that stated her professionalism, but had been had been accessorized with something a little daring. A little black dress stated nothing original, and most colors didn't agree with her pale complexion or, again, her hair. And given that her underwear boasted beige, that color was out of the picture.

6:47. Time to think, fast.

White was a no-go, unless Claire had something to offset it.

 _Aha_.

Black pumps, black boat neck top, white pencil skirt. Accessorize with a delicate chain-link belt and simple platinum necklace. Keep makeup minimalist, and carry around anti-frizz spray in a small white purse for her hair, just in case.

A spritz of Chanel No. 5, and…  _Perfect_. Her date wouldn't be able to resist. Quickly Claire made her way down to their meeting spot—the monorail entrance—and hoped that the park could run without her for its closing hours. Then again, her phone was on hand, just in case, and she had e-mailed her date a copy of what she wanted to do tonight, with a few backups in e-mail and the Notes app.

She  _needed_  this date, if only to prove to herself that she still had "game."

* * *

Board shorts.

He had the audacity to show up for this date in a Henley and  _board shorts_. Granted, it was a warm, humid evening, but Claire could survive in her pumps and skirt. Surely he could have cleaned up.

"Whoa." His eyes widened as he looked her up and down. "Either I'm grossly underdressed, or you're…"

"Overdressed?" Claire forced a smile and handed Owen a printed copy of the itinerary, as she noticed he had completely ignored the e-mails she'd sent him prior.

"You actually want to follow this?" he accused, smirk nothing short of condescending.

"Indulge me." She thought fast, hoping that being coy would work in her favor. She didn't know who was in the wrong here—him for showing up in  _board shorts_ , or her for thinking heels were appropriate for walking around a theme park. "I guess I could change, but that would put us way behind schedule…"

"No," Owen assured, leading her toward the monorail. "You look really great. And, uh… according to— _this_ —we're supposed to be at the hotel to make the dinner reservation at 7:15, so…"

"Right, right." Already they looked as if they didn't fit together—no passerby would ever think them on a date. Great start to a first date. Claire flashed the operator her Jurassic World ID, and she and Owen bypassed the long line.

Right on schedule. But other than his good looks, Claire couldn't really see any reason why they should even be on this date.

* * *

Timing could not be more perfect. The contents of this date, however, were an entirely different matter. Owen was indeed too underdressed for this restaurant, but Claire's position in the park allowed the staff to look the other way, just this once. Besides, in the dim light and behind the long tablecloth, no one could tell what he was wearing, anyway.

"Kind of formal for a first date, don't you think?" Owen pointed out as he scanned the menu, brows furrowed, as he seemed to try and decipher the pronunciation of each dish and wine choice.

Maybe. And maybe Claire was trying to assert herself a bit  _too_  much. But usually this showed her being her own woman, of doing things for herself.  _Usually_  men found this attractive.

Maybe asking him out because of jealousy wasn't her finest move, but then again, Claire Dearing always got what she wanted.

And maybe this  _wasn't_  what she wanted.

"Club soda and Fricassee De Poulet à L'Ancienne," Claire ordered in a perfect accent to the waitress (luckily the pronunciation was all she remembered from her high school French classes).

"Uh… the rib-eye and… Sorry, I can't pronounce the name of this wine." Owen cleared his throat, taking a glance at Claire like she would judge him for not being familiar with French pronunciation like she was before pointing and showing the waitress just what he wanted.

To tell the truth, she'd rather him admit to not knowing than butchering French in an attempt to impress her. Claire got sick of the bullshitters in her life—some authenticity, despite the casual nature, actually felt… refreshing.

She also noted that he looked at his wallet to make sure he could cover the cost, and that the waitress still inclined close to him, despite the fact that she  _knew_  they were on a date.

Well, well. Rugged ex-Navy men could make any woman swoon.

"I apologize if this restaurant is out of your price range for a first date." Perhaps she should have been more considerate. "Really, it's either this or the Margaritaville in the park."

Owen waved an assuring hand. "Don't worry about it—they still pay you pretty well for training the raptors. And what's wrong with Margaritaville? You got something against Jimmy Buffet?" he teased, grinning at her.

"You mean  _besides_  his music? Because some of those songs are crimes against humanity," Claire joked back, relaxing a bit. "Trust me, it wasn't my idea to give them space in the park. I must admit… it brings in good money."

"Ah, yes. What would the parents do if we didn't supply them with booze and caffeine?"

Claire laughed, covering her mouth to quiet herself from being too loud. Laughing, she realized, didn't fit into most of her dates in the past few years, and she couldn't believe how much she liked it. Hell, Claire could almost forgive Owen's board shorts.

Almost.

Dinner should be done by 8:30, and then, to guise the fact that Claire really just wanted to continue doing her job, they were going to wander the park, observing customer satisfaction on attractions. Looking at her watch (then her phone just to double check—and to sneak a peek if anyone sent her anything urgent, which they didn't), they were right on track.

"So… you keep looking at your phone. Given… this—" Owen held up his copy of the itinerary—"you're  _actually_  trying to stay on a schedule?"

Claire could tell he was talking down to her again. "Is there something  _wrong_  with being organized?"

"It's not that. I've never had anyone  _control_  the activities on a date. I'm more of a 'go with the flow' kind of guy," he pointed out.

She had to recover from the criticism. The way he'd said "control" kept repeating in her mind. "It means you'll never forget me. Or this," she added quickly.

Owen chuckled, really regarding Claire for a few moments. "No, I certainly won't."

* * *

They ended up splitting the bill.

Claire insisted that she pay, and Owen had insisted that the guy usually did these things.

And in the end, they split the bill because they just couldn't agree on anything else. That, and it was getting rather close for them to go to their next point in the itinerary. She just didn't have time to politely argue about it.

On the monorail back to the park, Owen finally noted her heels. "Not exactly walking material there," he pointed out, raising a brow.

"I assure you, I can walk just fine in them for quite a while." Claire didn't need sympathy, or a knight in shining armor, if by the off chance she  _did_  break a heel.

"No need to get defensive." Owen held his hands up. "I actually think in most situations you could kick my ass."

This, coming from the military guy who trained Velociraptors.

Claire couldn't help but grin at that. "Don't you forget it."

They soon arrived at the park, crowds dying down a bit given that the closing time was in a couple of hours. They didn't hold hands, and generally didn't even look like a couple other than the pace at which they were walking. Claire took more note of the time and the numbers when it came to customer satisfaction. Other than a few tired groans headed out of the park, most seemed enthusiastic and positive. Perfect.

"… aaand you're totally not listening." That got Claire's attention, and she blushed as she regarded her date again.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to…" she murmured.

"… but the park's not gonna run itself, I get it." Owen gave a dejected nod and their pace slowed. "Didn't know this was a work-related thing… no wonder you're controlling the itinerary."

"It's…  _not_ ," Claire tried to assure, but the knowing look on Owen's face told her he  _knew_.

"Prove it, then," he challenged, pulling her into the nearest store—Margaritaville.

This was definitely  _not_  on the itinerary.

"I'll have the… Velociberry Margarita in the souvenir cup—add a couple of shots just for the two of us—and for the lady…" He pointed at Claire, putting her on the spot.

"Oh, no," she politely declined. "I don't drink during work hours. Or really ever, especially not tequila." A flashback to one terrible night in college plagued her mind a brief moment before she shook it away.

"Well, you're not working now, you said it yourself. And I got two shots; one of them isn't going to kill you. Or even make you shit faced."

Wine or champagne on special occasions, that was fine. But just the  _calorie count_  from one of those margaritas… She didn't point that out, though, to keep herself more humble. "I'm sorry, I can't," she deadpanned, leaving it at that.

Owen shrugged. "Suit yourself." He paid for his drink, and the shots (after confirming that  _yes_ , he was completely of age and that one of those was for the lady, even though once they came out and the cashier's back was to him, Owen downed one after the other easily). The itinerary might as well be forgotten. How else could she keep this date on schedule?

"You're panicking," he observed as they waited for his last drink. Claire didn't even realize how many times she checked her phone for any update, for the time…

" _Relax_." And then his large hands were on her shoulders, dry and warm. Claire actually did calm her nerves a bit under his protective touch. And she should have pushed him away, but she didn't move again until his margarita was ready and he ceased touching her to grab his tacky souvenir cup, complete with a Velociraptor figurine hugging the straw.

He took a sip, then they were off again.

Claire didn't even remember what was next on the list, and she figured that Owen would stop her if she tried to pull her phone out again.

She just had to play by his rules now, and Claire Dearing wasn't the type of girl who relinquished control of her schedule so easily. For once, there was no plan, and that  _frightened_  her. Even in the humid air, where it was apparently appropriate for Owen to show up in board shorts for a date, Claire shivered.

"Oh, hey, let's go in here," Owen suggested after they had continued walking for a few minutes.

The Jurassic World souvenir shop.

The question "Why?" lingered on the tip of her tongue, but Claire held it as her surroundings became bombarded with t-shirts and plush dinosaurs and pretty much anything she wouldn't personally buy.

Just what purpose did this serve for their date?

Owen calmly sipped his drink, surveying the store like something plagued his mind and the only way to sate it was buying something in the store.

At least if they'd walked into Pandora Claire might have found a new charm for her growing collection.

"You look like you have some goal you really want to meet," she observed, her hand running along a display of plastic toys.

"I do," he admitted, surveying shirts, mugs, cheesy necklaces… finally he settled on keychains, focused eyes scanning for something… specific.

 _Hm_ … Maybe she should send her nephews a little gift. Although… she wasn't sure when either of their birthdays were, or what gifts were appropriate for their ages. Of course, she could call Karen, but that would result in a long-winded conversation about her fights with her husband, why Claire rarely called… she just couldn't deal with that right now.

"You're spacing again." Owen pointed out, already disappointed.

"I'm so sorry." Claire sighed, dropping her hand to her side. "It's really not you, I swear." It wasn't like she didn't pay attention to how he loved tropical weather, and how when he was a teenager he had a job working in an exotic pet store, where he learned to love and train a few stranger animals. He joined the Navy after high school, but after his services were over Jurassic World wanted someone with "enough balls" to train Velociraptors that were being made, and he volunteered.

No, Claire just didn't comment on the information.

Nodding, Owen just looked her over again, slurping from his souvenir cup as if he was assessing if she was worth the rest of the date. Much as Claire loved her job and was dedicated to it, she didn't want to be ditched here.

"I'm getting this for you," he announced, holding up a keychain of a T-Rex, adorned with her name. Claire wanted to protest the little gift, as she probably didn't deserve it and would probably never use it, but she instead nodded dumbly, as the assertive tone in his voice put her in place for the moment.

"Okay. Thank you." Then Claire picked up the keychain closest to her—a Brontosaurus with googly eyes—and, on a whim, decided, "I'll get this for you, then."

"Okay," he agreed, and his smile was back. How could such a small smirk look so attractive on him?

Their Jurassic World IDs gave them a bit of a discount, making their $6.95 keychains a bit cheaper. As Claire purchased her gift, she leaned further over the counter to converse with the cashier, as she couldn't help herself. "And how have sales been?"

"Quite good, Ms. Dearing," the cashier affirmed with a nod, handing her her receipt. "T-shirts and toy sales are doing best, but I've seen a lot of keychains leaving the stands, too. We're almost out of 'Johns' and 'Sarahs.'"

Claire wanted to pull her phone out to make a note of that, but she realized she probably still wouldn't be able to get away with it.

Maybe going off-itinerary wasn't that terrible. It certainly wasn't the end of the world or anything. But for once Claire didn't feel in control, and that both excited and frightened her.

When they traded keychains, she politely hooked hers on her keys, with every intention of taking it off later. But when she handed her goofy knickknack to him, the look of genuine happiness that graced his face gave her a slight sense of… guilt for those future plans to abandon the little gift. Not to mention how he beamed at how she actually looked as if she was going to use it.

But he walked out of the store with a smile, and that should be what mattered most.

"Oh, hey!" Owen stopped her as they continued to trek their way through the park. Occasionally Claire still took special note of the smiles on park goers' faces, despite the fact that it was getting late.

No, no, no, not another spontaneous activity. Claire had finally snuck her phone out to check her copy of the itinerary (as  _maybe_  she could show Owen the research lab, see how the dinosaurs were manufactured even more up close). This lack of control she had over the way this date was playing out only made her tense again; part of her  _really_  wanted to stop the chaos now.

But she looked up at Owen, who again beamed at her as he pointed up. The Mosasaurus Feeding Show. "Last one of the night."

He looked like a kid at Christmas. So there was only one way she could reply.

"Sure." Sighing, she followed Owen and the other people heading into the arena.

* * *

"Owen, this is the  _splash zone_." Emphasis on  _splash zone_. As in, her hair would get frizzy. As in, her phone could get destroyed. As in, her nice clothes could be ruined. "We can't sit here."

He chuckled, sipping his margarita. Claire heard the slurping, which signified the bottom of the cup. "That's how you have  _fun_." Again, he was teasing her for being "stuck up." Excuse her for caring.

Slitting her eyes, Claire's demanding look threatened the early end of this already terrible date.

Sighing, Owen summoned one of the poncho vendors walking up and down the aisles, and bought one for her. "There. Now your clothes and phone won't get damaged."

 _My hair_ , she wanted to point out, but that sounded so… girly. He really wasn't going to understand it, and there was only so much anti-frizz spray in her purse. She frowned at the inevitable, combing her fingers though her now-straight bob.

At least it came with a hood. Unattractive as the accessory looked on her crisp outfit, it would suffice. And at least they were sitting toward the back of the splash zone.

Claire managed a "thank you" just as the last show started, bright lights shining down on the audience and the water. She had to admit, she'd never  _actually_  witnessed the Mosasaurus feeding show—nor any other show or attraction at the park, for that matter—but judging by the amount of people who still showed up, Claire could guess that it was one of the more popular attractions. After T-Rex, of course.

It took all of Claire's willpower to not pull her phone out as the announcer listed facts about the large dinosaur. After all, she could have received a plethora of messages she should answer. She could plan her meetings for next week. She could finally look at her copy of the itinerary to see if she could salvage the rest of this date. Her hands dug tersely into her leg, restraining herself as she looked blankly out into the dark pool of water.

Or course Owen took note of her body language again, and he brazenly took one of her hands in his own. A move of which she definitely disapproved so soon (especially one going as terribly as this so far), but again, something about his calm demeanor immediately soothed her.

"If you didn't care about the state of your job and park satisfaction and the itinerary so much, we'd probably be having a better time here," he pointed out.

Frowning, Claire pulled her hand away quickly, as a Great White hovered over the water. "I'm sorry for caring enough to organize our evening," she deadpanned. The audience whooped and hollered, as if the Mosasaurus would appear just based on what they wanted.

Claire could walk away, say she had a pleasant evening, and never call him again. She could cut her losses and just admit that she and Owen were just too different to work out as a couple worthy of a second date or relationship.

But her eyes widened as the Mosasaurus rose from the water and grabbed the shark with huge, sharp teeth. Claire hadn't seen her in person since her creation—and fifteen tons looked more intimidating than any facts sheet she'd encountered about the creature or any footage she'd witnessed from the control room.

Entranced, she almost forgot that getting wet would be inevitable, and with that realization she quickly pulled the plastic hood over her head as the huge dinosaur splashed back in the water, hoping this would work out as she curled up to duck behind the kids in front of her.

Fortunately, Owen shifted to partly stand in front of her, taking the brunt of the splash. Such a… gentlemanly move she wasn't expecting.

As the seats in the audience descended, Claire took note of Owen's now-soaking back, stifling a chuckle. "You didn't have to do that." Although… well, shallow as the thought was, Claire fluffed her hair and felt grateful it was still in tact. "Thank you."

Owen shrugged. "Looks like the board shorts came in handy, huh?" he joked, clapping with the audience as everyone got a better look at the massive size of the dinosaur.

Claire clapped as well, despite the fact that the Mosasaurus still sipped the Great White apart.

* * *

"You mean, you've  _never_  seen any of the shows or attractions here?" Owen stared at Claire in complete disbelief.

Shrugging, Claire answered, "What I see is behind the scenes—I make sure the park is running well and that customers are satisfied. If the assets cooperate, everything runs smoothly and we can soon expand our attractions into more… exciting shows to show the public in the future." Unfortunately, Claire wasn't allowed to talk about their new dinosaur, due to premiere within the next year.

Owen chuckled, leading Claire to an employee area and toward a parked car. "I'm not a business mogul or investor," he said, pulling out keys. Just where were they going now? "It's just… I mean, even I check out the park during a few breaks."

"I don't get many of those," Claire admitted as Owen opened the passenger door for her. She'd pulled the plastic poncho off earlier and tossed it underneath the glove compartment before stepping in. Was Owen just going to drop her off at her place? Or did he have more in store? Quickly she pulled her phone out to see if she could sneak a peek at the itinerary again.

" _Ohhh_  no you don't." Owen rudely grabbed her phone as he got in, his free hand tossing the empty souvenir cup in the back. "If you're going to pull your phone out, it's going to be for this." Claire then protested, but it fell on deaf ears. What gave him the right…?

Turning on the camera, Claire rolled her eyes and sighed, but leaned in and smiled as Owen took a picture.

"I don't wanna see that thing out again," he ordered, "or I  _will_  reach over and steal it from you for the rest of the night."

"That's not exactly a 'first date' thing to say." Claire pouted, but she did as she was told as he started the car. "If it's a park emergency—"

"Then they should have a backup because you  _did_  tell them you were taking the night off, right?"

"Yes, but—"

"But nothing." Why was Claire actually listening to him? Something about his demanding tone just… really got to her.

After a few moments of silence as Owen drove, Claire finally turned from staring out into the tropic jungle. "This isn't the direction toward my place," she realized aloud.

Owen smirked, eyes still on the dirt road. "I wanna show you something first, if you're okay with that."

His tone shifted, like he  _really_  wanted to save the rest of the date. And, to be honest, Claire found him attractive enough and nice enough to give him one more shot tonight. "Sure," she agreed, albeit a bit reluctantly.

They continued small talk from earlier, doling out facts like old parties and music tastes. Claire laughed as Owen told her about his suit being ruined by spilling punch all over himself at his senior prom, and she confessed that her first job had actually been flipping burgers at McDonald's, since Karen had been working there prior and Claire needed extra cash to help pay her way through Princeton.

"Pretty girl like you flipping burgers instead of taking orders?" Owen took a moment to grin over at her.

Blushing, Claire played with the ends of her bob. "They called me 'Carrots' and 'Ginger Bitch.' My hair hasn't gotten any less orange from what I can tell," she explained.

Surprisingly Owen didn't ask for her to elaborate on just  _how_  she got the nickname "Ginger Bitch," but that was probably because he'd stopped the car… right where the Velociraptors were kept. Startled by this realization, Claire's eyes widened and she tensed in her seat.

"Owen, this  _definitely_  isn't somewhere you take a girl on the first date," she warned, but he just chuckled and exited before opening the door for her, hand stretched out for her to take.

"No, but it  _is_  someplace I'd take the Park Operations Manager, especially when this could be a potential attraction in the near future."

Still uneasy, Claire took Owen's hand and stepped out of the vehicle, following him toward the raptor cages. All four looked perched for attack in their muzzles, with one brave man actually  _petting_  the one on the far left. She didn't realize she was squeezing the life out of his hand until he looked back at her with a calm smile.

"Even at their hungriest, they can't get out of there, don't worry," he assured, opening the cage.

The other guy's widened as he noticed Claire. "Owen, this isn't a date spot, you realize that," he warned, but Owen waved him off.

"You know Claire; she runs the park," Owen replied, gesturing to her before moving her forward. Claire, still in a bit of shock, just went with it as four pairs of huge eyes tried to gaze at her. The muzzles and individual cages rattled a bit, and Owen pulled out a clicker with his free hand.

" _Hey_ , be nice," he ordered, taking a step forward. "You might have to get used to Claire here."

Indicating that there would even  _be_  more time for them to be together. Claire swallowed thickly, hoping Owen was right about the raptors being unable to escape. They didn't like her, she could tell. Was it her perfume, her demeanor?

"Echo, Delta, Charlie," Owen introduced, from right to left. Claire politely nodded at each of them, like that would make a difference in their opinion of her.

And then, as the other guy moved aside, Owen pointed to the far left raptor. "That's my Beta, Blue."

Then it clicked. Claire faced Owen, wide-eyed. "You're the Alpha," she realized, still holding onto his hand—out of fear, she told herself,  _not_  because she wanted to or anything. "They don't see me as food; they see me as a threat." To their normal way of life, she supposed. Even if this was just a first date.

"They see you as food, too," he chuckled. "We're on the same boat, in that sense."

"Why have me meet them now?" she asked, feeling more secure with his hand in hers.  _I'm not your girlfriend_. But she couldn't bring herself to say the words.

Owen shrugged. "Maybe you'll see a lot more of them in later months. I thought this would be a cool end for the night."

Cool for him; terrifying for her. Seeing them as recently hatched was one thing. This though… Oh,  _God_ , what was he thinking, introducing her to dangerous assets?

The other man—Barry, she soon learned—stood nearby as Owen reached forward to calm Blue down a bit. "Easy, girl," he soothed, and Claire noticed the raptor's slower breathing. "Just want you to meet a friend of mine."

 _Friend_. Claire wasn't even sure what to call him back. He brought her hand closer, and Claire almost pulled away. But Owen was too strong. His tone assured she would be fine.

"She's good, okay?" Claire couldn't tell if Owen was talking to Blue, to her, or to both of them. Looking up at him, he nodded, and she shakily turned to the raptor, focusing on her snout rather than her piercing eyes. Blue rattled more in her muzzle.

At the last moment, she realized her mistake.

Claire eventually  _did_  look into those eyes, and realized… There was something  _there_  that she never noticed in any of the newly born assets fresh from hatching. There was a realization, an understanding of the situation.

They were both terrified of each other. Claire, because Blue was a sharp-toothed raptor, and Blue, because Claire was clutching the hand of her Alpha. This thing—this  _raptor_ —suddenly became more than just a number in the park database. Suddenly every sense of control in her body vanished.

Just before Claire's fingers brushed the scaly skin, she tore herself away from Owen and ran out of the cage. "I'm sorry!" she cried pathetically, regaining her thoughts.

Owen just nodded, disappointed but understanding. "I'll, uh… take you back, then."

With that, they both knew: this disastrous date really had no chance of recovering.

* * *

Was it really  _that_  bad? Claire asked herself later. She falsely promised to call as he dropped her off, even if they both knew there was no hope for them. Sure, they had a few bumps. He showed up in board shorts, ignored her itinerary, drank tequila, unsuccessfully introduced her to those creatures. But… he shielded her from the Mosasaurus splash, showed her the park from a bit of a different perspective, made her laugh…

 _I don't want a second date_ , she told herself. The rugged look shouldn't affect her; she should go back to the neat business suits, like she was used to.

The more she looked back on the date, the filter over Claire's vision portrayed an emphasis on the negative—a cynicism in his voice, a condescension toward her mannerisms, the fact that he wanted her to meet those  _things_.

All of this ran through her mind as Mr. Masrani asked her to get Owen to evaluate Indomidous Rex, as he could "control the raptors."

Control… he exhibited no control, only instinct.

And  _that_ , Claire concluded, was the reason she ultimately didn't want to try being romantic with him again. Still, she promised her boss she would find him as a professional.

Claire opted for driving rather than Mr. Masrani's questionable helicopter "skills." She didn't think about the picture of her and Owen still saved on her phone as she pulled it out to check the time.

Her fingers curled over the cheesy Jurassic World keychain with her name on it. It wasn't like the knickknack made it easier for her to find her keys now or anything.

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno, I always thought that it really wasn't that bad, but uptight Claire just wouldn't have any of it. That, and there just needs to be more Clawen because reasons. I have a few things up my sleeve I'd like to do for them.
> 
> 'Till then!
> 
> ~Eliza


End file.
